


Untitled

by daphnomancy



Series: Comminution [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood Loss, Bloodplay, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6955264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnomancy/pseuds/daphnomancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve meets Alexander Pierce for the first time after the events of Good To Know, accompanied by Rollins, Rumlow and Bucky.</p><p>(Outtake scene from possible Good to Know sequel with knife/bloodplay and no redeeming value whatsoever)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially written when I was going in a kind of different direction with what will eventually be the sequel to Good to Know. Something like this will be a scene within the sequel but it won't be this one exactly — probably take a few paragraphs here and there, but I think the overall feel within the fic will be different than what happened here. But I'm kind of proud of this, so it's getting thrown up here on ao3!
> 
> **Mind the tags! This is an HTP fic with no redeeming value. At best it might squick you and at worse trigger you. Please read at your own discretion. I do not condone any of the actions in this fic, they are terrible, holy cow.**
> 
> A few people have asked if this means there'll be no chapter 22 for GTK and I assure that is not the case! I'm working on chapter 22 and it should be up in the next few weeks, I was just blocked a little and this is one of the things that came out of that, but is not quite how I want it for the sequel so I thought I'd post it now because I'm a little proud of it.

Steve put his stuff down on the small table as he went into the apartment, shrugging off his jacket and moving to the little kitchenette for a glass of water.

Bucky was there. It was Thursday, Bucky was supposed to be getting his ‘routine maintenance.’ For a moment, Steve thought perhaps there was a crack in Bucky’s programming, a fissure that he had been mentally driving a wedge into that would hopefully make him realize they needed to run away, they had to get out here. He almost reached out to take Bucky’s hand when Steve stepped further into the kitchen and saw Jack and Brock waiting there.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re going to go visit the director,” Brock said. “All of us, not just the soldier.”

Steve blinked. “The director?” The way Brock said, _Not just the soldier_ , gave Steve a small jolt as well. “I thought Bucky was getting maintenance done on his arm.”

“He visits the director first.”

“And does what?”

“Questions, Steve…”

They left, Steve walking through the halls once more behind Jack and Brock with Bucky at his back. As they were turning a corner, Bucky’s hand reached out, took Steve’s quickly and gave him a small squeeze before it was gone again. Steve’s stomach flipped inside of him and it took all of his power not to trip and stumble in shock. Over Steve’s shoulder, Bucky didn’t look like there was anything wrong, the mechanical face of the Winter Soldier plastered on, but Steve’s heart was hammering badly. Bucky was scared, Steve could almost taste it.

Director Pierce had an apartment rather like the one Steve stayed in with Brock when he was at the compound. It was much more comfortable though, leather furniture, expensive artwork, marble countertops in the kitchen. Steve got to look around a little bit before Brock and Jack walked him over to the center of the room. Brock went down onto his knees and gestured for Steve to do so as well, and Bucky did likewise next to him. Jack sat in one of the large leather chairs, and a shiver of confusion, of fear scraped down Steve’s spine. His back was to the door. He didn’t know what would come through.

They waited. Minutes passed slowly, and Steve kept peaking around until Jack stood up and grabbed him by the chin and pushed his head down, forcing him to stare at the floor. Steve didn’t look back up again, though he wanted to. He wanted to check on Bucky who was still and tense next to him, and he wanted to look at Brock and gauge how he was reacting and work from there. Instead he stared at the carpet beneath him, studying the swirling, whorls of indeterminate patterns until it all started to blur together.

He flinched a little when the door opened. Jack stood up and walked to the door and Steve could hear him murmuring with what had to be Director Pierce. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the man’s cadence, his presence was distinctive, even if Steve couldn’t see it.

“Brock, come here. Let me take a look at you.” Then Steve heard him say something along the lines of, “How’s the old magpie treating you?” But that couldn’t be right, that didn’t make sense.

They spoke too softly for Steve to hear and with that illusion of privacy, Steve spared one small look at Bucky. He looked pale, and the sight of it made Steve feel sick. Bucky was scared which meant Steve should be too.

“And are you two boys enjoying your new plaything?”

Steve flinched again because Pierce was standing right in front of him. Steve knew the moment he looked up and met the old man’s eye that he should have stayed looking at the floor, but it was too late.

Pierce took him by the chin, hand firm but surprisingly gentle, looking Steve right in the eye when he asked, “He was yours first, Brock, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, but Jack helped me break him; helped me decide how to do it. Couldn’t have done it without him.”

“Well Jack knows what happens when they break you the wrong way. That’s why we take extra special care of him now, give him gifts like this.”

“I don’t deserve this,” Jack murmured.

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t have things any other way. Your loyalty must be rewarded.”

“But still… Captain America? I still can’t believe it some days.”

“And then you’re nice enough to share him with me,” Pierce added finally looking away from Steve. “You’re a good man, Jack.”

“Thanks to you, sir.”

Director Pierce knelt down in front of Steve then. He pushed his hand through Steve’s hair and cupped his neck as Steve stared at the ground, fighting with himself to keep from trembling. He forced himself to swallow down a sigh of relief when Pierce shifted over to Bucky and took his chin in hand.

Pierce spoke in Russian, and Bucky finally lifted his head to look up at him and meet his eye. “There he is,” he murmured, a sick smile on his lips. “Are you enjoying staying with Steve? Are he and the boys taking good care of you?”

“Yes sir.”

“Are you ready to show them what we do here? Will you let me try it out on Steve?”

Bucky didn’t respond for a moment. His breath hitched, his body jerked in a just barely perceptible way. “D-don’t you want to demonstrate on me? He will not—“

Jack spoke sharply in Russian.

“There’ll be plenty of time for you,” Pierce continued. “But we don’t want to be rude to our guests.” The words were soft but Pierce’s voice had gone terribly stern and Steve had to fight down the urge to push him away from Bucky. He couldn’t see it, but he could tell his hand had gone tight on Bucky’s chin, painfully so.

“No sir,” Bucky whispered. “Sorry sir.”

Pierce stood up. He murmured something in Russian and nodded to Jack and Brock and they stepped away, through the apartment and into the dining room. After a few moments Steve heard the sound of their quiet conversation waft through the apartment, but again, he could’t make out what they were saying. There was the clink of silverware on plates and Steve could smell rich foods and wine coming from their direction.

His mouth watered. He thought he was going to be able to eat. With everything else, the last thing he needed was his super soldier metabolism making things harder.

“Bucky,” he whispered. “What’s going on?”

Bucky shook his head, still staring at the floor.

“Bucky, please. Tell me. Don’t make me go into this without knowing wh—“

“Pierce is evil.”

Steve thought he hadn’t heard him right. He bent down a little and tried to meet Bucky’s eye. “What? What did you say?”

“He is not a good man. He is going to hurt you.”

Steve swallowed, and bit his lip, looking back down at the floor.

“Pierce likes skin and blood and bone. And what’s more, I know he’ll enjoy whatever it is he does to you, so you will come back here with me every time now. It’s my fault.”

“What? No, that’s not your fault. You haven’t done anything wrong—“

“I said your name,” Bucky whispered. “Last time I was here I said your name as he cut me and he heard me and—“

He was growing a little frantic, voice faster and the harsh whisper thick in his throat.

“Bucky it’s okay. I don’t care, alright. It’s not your fault. It’s his. It’s his fault.”

“Quiet. You can’t say things like that!”

“But he—“

“Shh.”

Steve fell quiet and when he did he heard the sound of chairs shifting in the other room and feet moving through the apartment. He knew they were coming closer, in a perfect world he should have been able to hear them clearly, their blood pumping through their veins, their breath, their steps, but it was almost impossible over the thud of his heart pounding in his ears. He fisted his hands on his knees.

A hand on his back made him flinch hard.

“Shh. Easy pup.”

Jack’s broad hand on the back of his neck was warm and large and made Steve even more scared.

“He looks nervous,” Pierce commented.

“Always does. Hasn’t learned how to trust us yet.”

“Now that’s hard to believe. He seems like such a trusting guy."

Brock, Jack and Pierce chuckled, and Steve flinched again at the sound of plastic shifting through the air. He turned away from Jack’s hand to see Brock spreading out a plastic tarp on the ground behind him. Instinctively, Steve lurched away, nervous, sick to his stomach. Jack’s hand fisted rough in his hair and he gasped.

“Steve, be good.”

His breath came fast and gasping in his throat as he stared at Brock smoothing out the plastic sheets, and he saw a glint of metal and Pierce was holding a knife.

“W-wait. Wait!”

Pierce quirked an eyebrow. “Does he think he can stop this?” The question sounded sincere. As if Pierce was genuinely surprised that Steve had said anything at all. And it made Steve ill to think that Bucky was not so responsive, was _trained_ out of responding. He knew about all the training and programming Bucky had received but it never felt real until moments like this.

“He hasn’t learned yet.” Jack gave Steve’s head a small shake.

“I’ll go easy on him then.”

“Don’t have to, sir. He should know better.”

“Well, I’ve got two of them here now.” Steve froze, glancing at Bucky who had not moved from his spot, staring down at the floor. “He’s smart,” Pierce murmured. He met Steve’s eye again. “That’s right. Anything you don’t let me do to you, I’m going to do to him. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

Steve almost shook his head, but forced himself to swallow to nod at the man and relax a little in Jack’s grip. Maybe it was fair. He could take more than Bucky, even with Bucky’s enhancements. He would do that for him.

“Good boy.” He looked up at Jack. “He’s stubborn, Rollins. You have your work cut out for you, don’t you?”

“We’re rebuilding him. You should’ve seen him when we first got him.”

“I can’t even imagine…”

Brock finished with the sheet and stood next to Jack. “Take off your clothes, Steve, and lie down.”

Steve did as he was told, bringing himself to his feet before shucking of his clothing and tossing them on the nearby chair. Pierce’s eyes on him was a different element, but he forced himself to ignore it, to tamp down his emotions and lie on his back in the middle of the plastic sheet.

“Now close your eyes.”

Steve wanted to sob but did as he was told. He felt the growing tremble in his muscles under his skin, he was going to start shaking, hard and uncontrollably, any second now.He tried to listen to the others, to Pierce ordering them around him, but it was impossible. He couldn’t even breathe properly and he was so, so scared. He was shutting down and revving up and could not make himself focus. It was half blind panic and half memory. He thought of the way Brock had broken him and cuffs and the hallucinogenic and hands on his body when he was tied up and gagged.

He gasped, his eyes shot open when he felt the knife nick him softly in the side.

“Steve. I told you to close your eyes.”

It wasn’t Pierce who was holding the knife, however. It was Bucky. Steve stared, horrified, looking up to see Bucky and Brock on either side of him on the plastic sheet, and Pierce and Jack sitting in the leather chairs looking down at them.

“Do as you’re told, pet,” Jack murmured.

Steve had never seen Jack look like that, except for the few times they had been alone together. His eyes were dark and intense, looking at Steve’s exposed body, at the spot where Bucky had barely broken his skin with the knife. Steve glanced down and saw the smallest bead of red welling up from the cut.

He leaned back and closed his eyes as Pierce said, “Don’t let that go to waste, Brock.”

Steve flinched when he felt Brock’s tongue slide wet and hot over the cut, licking up the blood.

“Keep going. You know where I want it.”

A metal hand pushed Steve’s leg, rotating it a little and Steve tensed when he felt the tip of the blade against his inner thigh. He was shaking his head as he lay there, eyes still closed, when he felt the knife go into his flesh. This was no small nick with the tip of the blade. It went in deep; deep enough that Steve had to bite back a cry at the pain of his muscle breaking under the sharp blade. It was so slow, Bucky pushed in deeper and deeper, so slow so gently, and Steve knew if Bucky wasn’t holding his leg still, Steve would be shaking hard enough that the knife would tear him open.

He pulled the knife out quickly and Steve felt warm blood start to well up and trickle down his leg. It was pumping hard and fast. _Femoral artery,_ he thought vaguely. He remembered reading a little about it from before the serum, studying the information Dr. Erskine had given him all those years ago. There was a primer on anatomy. The serum was injected into his major muscle groups, and the main arteries near them were marked out; any remaining serum would be picked up by the blood and carried through to the rest of his body.

“Dessert, Brock.”

Steve could not even understand the words but all of a sudden Brock’s hot mouth was on the wound. He latched his teeth into the meat of Steve’s inner thigh and began to suck, to drink.

Steve thrashed and whimpered and Bucky had to hold him down with his hard, metal hand.

“Are you hungry, Jack?” Pierce asked into the apartment.

“I’m a country boy, sir. Never one to turn down a free meal.”

“Keep going, soldier.”

Bucky grabbed Steve’s arm and lifted it up, exposing the sensitive skin beneath, near his tricep. Again the knife went in slowly. Steve realized his eyes were open. He hadn’t even noticed it; he thought he had closed his eyes, and he stared, glazed and unfocused as Bucky opened up his skin and muscle. His breathing was all he could hear.

Jack’s mouth was on his arm, and the large man helped Bucky keep him pinned down, but Steve didn’t even fight anymore. He could feel his blood flowing into Jack’s mouth, he trembled as Jack ran a free hand up and down Steve’s chest, while Brock started running his fingers over Steve’s abdomen, his thumbs over his hips. They were reverent as drank his blood.

“One more. For you, soldier.”

Bucky pushed his head up and Steve felt something wet drip down his temples from his eyes as Bucky brought the knife to Steve’s throat. _They were going to kill him._ He realized it with a soft exhalation.

He never even got to save Bucky, or Sam. Or anyone. They were killing him and he could only lay there as it happened.

Bucky’s knife pierced his skin and his muscle at his neck, and Steve could feel the half inch, inch, inch and a half, two inches slowly make its way deeper within him. In a moment, the world shifted and Bucky’s mouth was on his neck, and that almost felt right except for the way hot blood rushed into his mouth with every one of Steve’s breaking heartbeats. He could feel his pulse against the tongues of all three men.

He was drifting away when he heard Pierce talk, felt Jack and Bucky lift up off of his flesh.

His vision was blurred, but something heavy pressed against his mouth. It was Bucky’s wrist, open now with something hot spilling down at against his face. Jack’s calloused hand pulled his mouth open and forced him to latch on to a fresh wound on Bucky’s forearm before they both went back to sucking Steve’s blood. The blood was dripping into his mouth, filling it and he coughed and sputtered, but felt it go down his throat, hot and acrid and full of life, Bucky’s life. He couldn’t fight his way away from it. They could do what they wanted to him, but he wouldn’t— he couldn’t— do that, not to Bucky.

A hand pushed Bucky’s arm harder into his face and Steve felt someone sit at his head. He blinked up and saw the hazy visage of Pierce staring down at him, holding Bucky’s arm to his mouth.

“You were right,” he murmured. “He is pretty when he cries.”

Pierce reached towards Steve’s face and pinched his nose shut. With the arm on his mouth, Steve couldn’t breathe.

He tried to move his head, to thrash away but he couldn’t. It was impossible. Three men on top of him held him down and his blood was leaking out into their mouths. He whimpered, coughing as Bucky’s blood went down to his lungs for a moment, felt a high whine sound in his chest that couldn’t escape past the muscle and skin against his teeth.

His vision started to go dark around the edges, there were spots of strange light and all he could see was Pierce grinning down at him, feral. All he could feel were teeth and hands on his skin, his blood growing weaker as it pounded in his ears. His head was floating on his shoulders, on the floor, and there was a terrible spin that made Pierce shift above him.

He saw black.


End file.
